Friday, February 29, 2008

I am not much of a party animal, but if you think of a party in the sense of a celebration, the most significant party I have attended in recent months was the celebration at the end of the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk last September in Seattle. The entire three days was a celebration of life from the opening ceremonies in the wee hours of Friday, to the pit stops, to the pink tent city which was home for two nights, from the supporters who helped kept us going those sixty miles, to the sweep vans who picked us up when we couldn't.

Needless to say, when over two thousand people walk 60 miles to get to a party, everyone does not arrive at the same time. But this party could not start early. This is the holding area where those of us who arrived before the start time waited till all was ready.

You may notice that though most everyone is wearing their party shirt, some of those shirts are in pink. Those are the breast cancer survivors who walked. Other walkers' celebratory shirts were white, while support crew sported gray shirts. You don't see crew shirts here, as crew members were still out providing support for walkers and getting things ready for the party.

As we entered the stadium for the party, some carried official banners and others their own celebratory banners. Rachel and I carried a windsock with pictures of my mother and sister, whose losing battles with breast cancer inspired our team name, The Janes for Jane and Ann.

Here come the party-goers into the stadium. Talk about a loud party! You can see a hint of the crowd of spectators in the stands. We tried calling all the cell phones of the family to let them know where we were on the floor of the stadium, but they couldn't hear their rings.Some party goers had met their family members outside the holding area while waiting, and had already had hugs, kisses, and gifts of flowers. Waving the flowers in celebration probably seems sensible, but you may be wondering about the shoes.

The thing with the shoes was a big surprise to me at the time, too. There had been some hard to hear announcements as we were getting ready to leave the holding area, so I may have missed it. I was not ready with my shoe loose, and had to scramble to participate. After all the walkers and crew had entered the stadium, the crowd was silent as the survivor walkers marched in. The raised shoes were a tribute to those walkers who were themselves survivors of this dread disease.

I think this was probably the biggest party I have ever been to. It was hard work to get an invitation, months of training and fundraising, but I am working toward attending again this coming September.

Perhaps you remember my hat? If you don't, you can read about it here. If you or someone dear to you has fought breast cancer, I would be proud to add their name to those on my hat. Please share them in the comments. I will continue to wear my hat as I train and participate in future 3-Day walks this year and hopefully in years to come.

My new walking shoes have a breast cancer pink ribbon on the tongue. You see them at the top of the sidebar of my blog every day. I am wearing them for training walks and hopefully will not have worn them out by September. You can click them here or click below them on the sidebar any time if you would like to donate to fight breast cancer through sponsoring my walk. All donations benefit the Susan G. Komen for the Cure and the National Philanthropic Trust.

If you click the 3 Day label below, it will take you to my other posts about last year's 3 Day Walk experience.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

A large farm building used for storing farm products and sheltering livestock.

So if they are not large, are they not barns?

Hiding

The modern ones lack character.

Roof sagging seems to be the first step.

Or missing roof planks

Sag

This is the first one I came upon today that was red. When I was growing up, "barn" and "red" always went together.

My barnstorming today had a plan, that I would end here at the Marble barn. This round barn is a landmark in our town--and from the development nearby, it sure looks like soon the IN will be literally taken, as the next street over now has curbs and there is a real estate development farther down. (I hope it doesn't go the way of Kelly's barn. It has been preserved over time, so it has hope.)

At one time I was told the history of the Marble Ranch and the reason it was round. The reason has faded from my memory, but I believe it had something to do with feeding the cows. Maybe someone knows why this barn might have been built in this form.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

On our trip to Walla Walla last week I started looking at barns we passed. On my trip to school today I realized that twice a day, three days a week, I pass dozens if not scores of barns visible from the highway on my commute. And no two of them are the same.

I don't think I have any pictures of barns.

Tomorrow is my day off and I am going to go out and take pictures of barns. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Well, I guess I will show you mine even if you don't show me yours, but I would still like to see your barn pictures and hear your barn stories.

I can tell you a barn story now.

When I was a kid I took piano lessons for four years. I made it through the first grade book in that time, which probably tells you how musically talented I am not and how diligently I practiced.

For part of that time my piano teacher came to our house for the lessons. But some of the time I went to her tiny farmhouse. Dominating the house were two grand pianos. I have never seen another place so tiny sporting so much musical potential. (I'm obviously not talking about myself.)

Because it was a long way (all of about five miles, I think--wouldn't even be thought twice about these days) there were three of us girls about the same age whose mothers carpooled us to the farm. So, while one was having her lesson, the other two of us usually played in the old barn. That barn was a fun playground.

Besides being a fun place to play, the barn was very popular with local artists. It was the subject of many paintings at local art shows. Later, long after I had moved away, I passed by the barn with Mother during a couple of visits. She told me that, despite development of the area, the barn had been preserved for the sake of the artists.

That has been a long time again, so I don't know if the Kelly barn still stands on El Camino Real. (Maybe my brother can tell us.)

Added 2/26--message from my brother: "I just drove past the site of Kelly's barn and it wasn't there."

Friday, February 22, 2008

When I went walking the other day I happened upon this wooden wheel. It has definitely seen better days.

I thought the one farther along the fence was in better condition, but it turned out that it was not by much.

What stories these wheels could tell! Did they carry a homesteading family to the Northwest along the Oregon Trail? Did they see birth, death, kindnesses, violence, fortune, and tragedy along the way? What weather did they endure? What people did they encounter? What animals? How did they manage to ford the rivers? Which of the homesteading families did they belong to and where did they finally settle?

We have an image of Westward pioneers riding in the wagons, but that is mostly false. For the most part they walked alongside, with the wagons carrying their goods. Small children probably rode part of the way. It would have been a bumpy ride.

Another trek this week brought us to this wooden tank atop a wooden tower. Oh, it has a wooden ladder all the way to the top, too. It is located at a restaurant and winery in Walla Walla.This must have a century of history behind it as well.

I drive off, I open the bag at the stop and find--is it one?--is it five?--how many this time? This mumbling window guy has big hands--there are eight packets of hot sauce in the bag with my one small taco today.

This morning I walked from the church to the edge of town. That's about two miles. I started checking out the condiment packets. Mostly taco sauce in the half mile either side of the convenience store that has burritos for the high school lunch crowd.

On the sidewalk,

In the grass,

...the packets were everywhere. I did not take pictures of all of them and I have not posted all of the pictures I did take.Here's one tucked under some leaf mulch.

Condiment packets were not the only litter, of course. There were straws, cans, gum and candy wrappers, soft drink lids and straws, receipts, plastic bags. I even saw about a dozen bank deposit slips. The condiment packets sat in solitary company to posts. Or gathered in committee meetings of as many as half a dozen.

The solitary ones were more likely to be opened and used. The gatherings more likely to include several which were unopened.

This one pointed out specifically.

Now these guys would certainly welcome condiment packets in their weekly gatherings. They were downright friendly as I walked past.

Of course, they probably did not realize that I had just taken two dozen pictures of condiment packets.

Taco Sauce

Ketchup

Hey look! Mustard!

Mayonnaise

Eeeeyewww!

So the question remains: what's the deal with all the condiments? Why does the mumbly guy with the big hands at the window give me as many as a dozen hot sauces, or as many catsups and neglect to give me one napkin? If they didn't give us so many more than we need, would there be so many strewn all over the place along the street? Does the convenience store have a trash can outside the door where folks could toss their condiment packets? Why are there condiment packets on our road, too? We are two miles out in the country.

About Me

I am a Grandma blogger, posting some regular stuff on some regular blogs--photos and memes. Most recently I have primarily participated in a weekly header challenge, but hopefully I will get back to more regular blogging again.